lost.

There was another component to my visit with Jeff.
There was his father's house.
I don't know exactly when we went over there, but it must have been at least a few days in. After I had become relaxed and comfy at his mom's.
I knew before we even got there - from Jeff's demeanor - that his father's house would be very different. And it was.

Not far away, but a whole world away in some respects. Where his mother's house was sunny, his father's was shady and dark.Where his mother's house smelled like flowers, and herbs and the sea, his fathers house smelled like Pinesol and moth balls.Where dinner at his mother's house was friendly and relaxed, full of laughter from the very start, his father's dinner table was stiff.
Not unkind, mind you. I found myself at a formal feeling dinner with Jeff, his Father, his father's wife, and their 6 or 7 yr old little boy. On a Tuesday. In the summer. I remember Jeff's father clearing his throat quite a bit, a lot of akward silences, and both parents looking at me like they had NO idea what to say to me or what to make of me.
I found myself looking my own outfit over to see if I had inadvertently worn some 'Madonna'- esque piece that would offend these upright Brain surgeons...Nope. Not even one of my signature cut- to- shreds tee shirts. I probably wasn't wearing a bra. I never did. But I'm only realizing that that might have ruffled them now, while writing this.
I thought it was certainly all about me - this discomfort and ...I didn't even know what....and THEN...something revealed itself.
I started to observe as dinner went on, that these grown ups were even more akward with their own sons. The 6 year old in particular.
His name was Justin. And he was so cute. But, as any normal 6 year old boy would do - he was squirming in his seat, trying to make jokes, and - you know - just bored with having to sit quietly at the dinner table and eat his vegetables.
I realized that his parents were looking at him and each other as though he were an alien. They did not get him at all.He could have been speaking another language.
I, however,being the oldest of six children, was fluent in 'little boy'. So I started joking back with him, answering his questions, asking some of my own.. And the atmosphere around the table seemed to sigh a great breath of relief. I felt like the ambassador to Kidland.

Justin and I shortly excused ourselves from the table (It was clear Jeff's father wanted to do some real catching up with him), and made our way to his bedroom where we told some more jokes, he showed me his toys, and i got him into his PJ's and started to read him a story. At the end of the story, Justin's mom came in and sat at the edge of the bed with a lovely smile on her face. She looked about a million times more relaxed than she had at the dinner table.

I thought I knew what was going on. She and her husband had big, stressful grown-up jobs that they had to do every day. They had this little boy when they were a bit older - more set in their ways, and it didn't seem like either of them spoke the language. So Justin was confusing to them sometimes. When he thought he was being the most witty fellow in the room telling some wicked good fart joke, then screaming with laughter - they mistook it for bad behavior at the dinner table. And they were tired. Any one who's ever been around a 6 yr old boy knows that they almost ALWAYS have a LOT of energy. It's hard to deal with that much energy when you're 40 and you've been thinking about brains and important, serious things all day. ...MUCH easier for a 17yr old who still has about three quarters of that energy.
Anyway.Jeff and I listened to the James Taylor greatest hits album about a dozen times at his dad's house. And some Nat King Cole. And I fell in love with Justin.

The best day we had over there was when Jeff took us to the beach to see the seals. I was skeptical that we would really see them up close - but we did! Justin and I sat at the edge of a giant rock getting splashed over and over again by waves that sparkled in the sun. And the seals were right there, as promised.
Jeff watched us from a distance, tee-shirt wrapped around his head, hiding from the sun like a sensible red head, reading his book. He was finally seduced into joining us because we were having SO much fun.It was one of the best days of my life.

By the end of my trip, Jeff's step mother and father offered me a nanny position. I will always wonder what my life would have looked like if I'd taken it.


As the days and nights went by, and especially after my poison oak had cleared up, something began to change between Jeff and I.
It was small. So small, I thought maybe I was imagining it.I wasn't.
By the fourth of July, we were back at Jeff's mom's house. We all went to this super fabulous party on the beach. It was at a family friend's house. Their back yard was the Malibu beach. Jeff, his brother and Steve didn't seem to think it was any big deal - but I was kind of blown away. It looked like a movie to me.
I was in a great mood. But something was a little off with Jeff. So Steve and I went on a walk down the beach. Jeff ended up following us - a little petulantly at first, I think. Steve had beer. We drank it. There may have been champaigne. I decided I was a mermaid and took half my clothes off - swam out to a big rock. An 'island'. Jeff came out to drag me back when I threatened to sleep there all night, and we ended up kissing on the sand.
I remember being freezing cold - he found a blanket or a big towel that we wrapped up in together.I was warm, even in my wet panties - all snuggled up to his chest. Completely high on love. And then the fireworks came. Right over our heads.
They were so beautiful, and so close.It felt like the Universe was putting on this great show - just for me. Just for us.

I lost my purse with all my money and my ID to the tide that night - but I could care less.

When we got home and into bed, I finally had the courage to ask Jeff what was wrong.
"Nothing", he said.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, it's nothing." he said. Then he turned his back to me and rolled further away from me.
"well, why are you way over there, then?"
" I just can't take it any more, Jennifer."
"ah", I thought.
I had suspected as much.We still hadn't had sex. It was getting hard for me, too.
But I couldn't - didn't know how to deal with that hurt, slightly mad tone in his voice that night. It hurt me to hear it. Especially after being a mermaid and kissing under the fireworks, laughing with Steve - the 3 Muskateers - all of it.
I went to sleep with a terrible lump in my throat feeling helpless and inadequate.
The next day, Jeff and I did that weird avoiding thing that people figure out how to do when they are in each other's company, and in front of other people, and don't know how to deal - or have a private moment to do it.

It was a beautiful day. AGAIN. Malibu. Sun. Steve being charming - everyone but us apparently in the best fucking mood of their whole lives.
In the afternoon, Jeff snuck away from me to go practice the Sax in his room.
That hurt. I wasn't going to let that happen. So, when I heard him playing upstairs, I shot Steve a look, and Steve seemed to give me a "go ahead" look back, and I ran up there like a little bunny rabbit and jumped on the bed.
Jeff cut his playing short and came over to sit with me. He let out this big, dramatic sigh and said, "What do you want?"
"Well, I'm not the agressive type, but I never said I didn't want to...you know. I just haven't been able to start it - and I think you're such a nice guy, such a gentleman...I mean it's just a misunderstanding."
"Yea. Well, the thing is, Jennifer, that we've been fooling around so much, and it's gotten so close - and I just can't take it anymore. It's making me crazy. When we stop."
"So. Let's not stop."
he rolled his eyes a little bit, "When?"
"Now. Let's not stop now."
he still looked a little bit frustrated so I repeated myself as I started unbuttoning his shirt, "Right now. No stopping."
That got him cracked open.

As we undressed each other, Steve Fox began playing classical guitar right under our window, which made us laugh even more than we already were.
"Well, I don't think you planned this.." I said.
I wasn't nervous. Not much.I was nervous about it hurting, but nothing else.

The music kept playing as we finally didn't stop.He kept looking into my eyes, a little worried - maybe I was scrunching up my face or something. It did hurt. But I looked right back at him and kept saying "It's ok. It's ok."
He was smooth and perfect, and everything was silky and lovely down there.
I trusted him. Absolutely.


When we were done this wave of euphoria began to engulf me. It kind of snuck up on me - and things just didn't feel very real. Steve was still playing under our window, a breeze was coming in from the garden just barely caressing our warm bodies, and there was....blood on the sheets.
I don't know why that surprised me so much. But it did.

Jeff had beautiful, light blue sheets. He didn't make a big deal out of the blood at all.

I lost my virginity on a beautiful afternoon in Malibu California with classical guitar serenading us. I "lost" it to someone I knew I would always love.